only hope

Hera laughed outright at the madman. “Your only hope?” She chuckled incredulously. 

But he didn’t join in. Instead, he stared at her seriously, his lips formed in a line. “Apparently,” he grumbled.

She looked at him, her laugh dying down in her throat before she nodded once, setting her lips in an awkward semblance of a smile. “Yeah, I’m just gonna go…” She trailed off, her feet shuffling backward from the large house.

“I can’t let you do that,” he said, advancing on her.

Suddenly, she remembered he had kidnapped her, bringing her here in some weird twisty magic. Her defenses raised as he neared and her face set to stone. “Stay away from me,” she warned, her hand raised.

But he continued but she would be ready this time. She willed everything inside of her to get him away. So, he did, jumping back unexpectedly as her magic flowed through her. She smiled as he landed with a thud and began to walk away but he stood quickly.

“That was unexpected,” he said and Hera paused, looking back at the man, Theo, who was standing, looking at her appraisingly as he twisted a stick in his hand. She glared, arms crossing as she backed away, about to break into a run when he pointed the stick at her, muttering a lone word, “Stupefy.”

Everything went black.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Hera groaned, nestling into the softness of the surface she lay. It was warm, wherever she was. So warm she almost didn’t want to open her eyes to reveal her whereabouts. But, then she remembered. That man! 

She sat up with a gasp, her mind just now processing the chatter sounding from the room over. She jumped up, yanking the white woven blanket off of her body and steadying herself on her feet. She looked down, pausing in relief when she realized she was still dressed, bar her shoes. Her eyes trailed along the room, taking in her surroundings and looking for an escape. The chatter continued from the room over and Hera breathed a sigh of relief that they hadn't realized she had awoken. Her eyes fell on a heavy looking door and she took the leap, praying to the universe that it was the way out. She stepped toward it.

Footsteps clicked on the floor behind her before she made it. She turned, a huge black dog coming into view. Hera froze, memories of Ripper chasing her down as she cried popping into her mind. She shook her head to rid herself of the memories. She smiled tightly at the skinny-looking dog sitting and she raised her hands. “Good dog. Don’t give me away now,” she pleaded.

When the dog just stared she took a hesitant step toward the door and the dog stood. She paused again. “Stay,” she whispered, hand pointing at the dog.

The dog barked loudly once. The chatter stopped.

“Shit,” she muttered before breaking out into a run. 

She was almost across the room when the dog barked loudly again and a voice sounded from behind her. “Stop,” his voice was authoritative and she found herself freezing despite herself. She stood still, afraid to turn around and afraid to move forward. Her breath came out in stuttered bursts as she debated what to do. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, she turned.

There he stood, a man with tired eyes and a long white beard, dressed brightly despite the dreary nature of the house she found herself in. He stood calmly, no threatening moves or angry eyes. He just stood, staring at her. “We will not hurt you,” he finally spoke, his voice soft, almost grandfatherly.

She stared back at him, tensing as a group of people wandered into the room, their eyes glued to her, whispers shared amongst themselves.

“I can’t exactly trust that, can I?” She said, eyes finding the man, Theo, that took her.

The old man smiled, his tired blue eyes holding a twinkle that she was sure must have shone bright in different circumstances. “I suppose young Theo may have frightened you,” said the old man and said man scoffed where he stood, leaning against the dark wall. Hera glared. “But, you can trust us. We mean you no harm.” 

Her eyes fell back on the old man, heart thudding in her chest as eyes remained glued to her body, sticks in everyone’s hands. She tensed, remembering what had happened both times Theo had pulled one of those sticks on her.

“I don’t suppose you’ll let me leave?” Hera asked, eyebrows raised hopefully.

The man smiled tightly, his eyes apologetic as he looked at her. “We cannot,” he said softly. “It’s for your own safety.”

Hera clenched her fist, looking at the man, her eyes hard. “You know,” she began. “You people keep saying things like I’m a target or something.”

“That’s because you are,” Theo chimed in, his voice bored as he twisted his stick between his fingers.

Hera looked at him, eyes narrowed. “Yeah, okay,” she scoffed.

“Hera, my girl,” the old man interjected, drawing her attention back to him. “What do you know of our world?”

Hera’s brows furrowed. “Like the UK?”

Worried whispers sounded through the room and Hera tensed as they looked at her.

“I told you,” Theo chimed in again. “She knows nothing.”

“Yes,” the old man said seriously, looking down. “This is grave indeed.”

“Can someone please explain what the fuck I’m doing here?” Hera finally snapped.

“Language,” an older woman with stern eyes and a straight mouth said. 

Hera’s eyes turned to her, a glare in place. “You’ve kidnapped me. I think my language is the least of my concerns,” she snipped.

“Abducted,” Theo said flatly.

Hera glared, “What?” she asked, her voice tight. 

“Technically I abducted you, as I believe you are nineteen. Are you not?” Her abductor said boredly, eyes not even bothering to look at her.

“I don’t know how the hell you know everything about me but semantics aside. You abducted me.” She looked pointedly at the man who did not look back at her. “I think I deserve to know why.”

“Hera, my dear girl,” the old man spoke again, drawing Hera’s eyes back to him. “Perhaps we should sit for this conversation.”

“I’m good,” she responded flatly, wanting to keep as much distance from her and her abductors as possible.

“Well, my girl,” he sighed, looking sadly at Hera. “What you should first know is you’re a witch.”

Hera stared. “A witch?”

“Yes, a witch,” the man assured. When she still only stared, the man continued, “Have you ever done anything that could otherwise not be explained?”

Hera tensed, looking around the room at the people staring at her. Her lips remained stubbornly closed, too afraid to admit what she could do aloud, even if these people seemed different like her too.

“We already know you can. There’s no use keeping quiet,” Theo said, still leaning against the wall. A curly headed girl with hard eyes smacked his arm and glared, hissing something under her breath. Hera found herself wanting to echo the sentiment.

But Hera still remained silent, and as did the rest of the group, staring at the frightened girl. Finally after a long stretch of stilted quiet, she relented. “I’ve always done freaky things,” she admitted in a whisper, head looking at her feet.

“Freaky?” The old man echoed, his voice patient.

“I can make things happen if I need it. Unnatural things.”

“My girl, I assure you, it’s perfectly natural. Perhaps not amongst muggles, but natural nonetheless for a witch such as yourself,” The old man said.

Hera tilted her head. “Muggles?”

“Non-magic folk,” he answered.

Internally, Hera was reeling. There were people like her? She wasn’t alone in this? She wanted to jump up and beg to know everything they knew, but the bigger part of her was wary, as if this could all be a trick. So, she remained quiet, exhaling a shaky breath. “Why did you take me?” she asked after a moment. “I mean, I understand I’m a witch or whatever but surely you don’t just go around kidnapping everyone with magic.”

The old man chuckled, shaking his head. “Surely not. But, you, Hera, you are special.”

Hera’s brows furrowed, looking at the man like he knocked a screw loose. “I’m special?” She asked incredulously.

“You are,” he assured. “See, Hera, you are the key to ending a dark wizard’s reign.”

Hera laughed, a nervous sound that startled through the silence of the room. When no one joined, she looked around at the grim faces of the strangers, her laugh dying in her throat. “Me? Why the hell would I be?”

He looked at her for a moment before answering, his voice serious, “Long ago, there was a prophecy and in it you were identified as the chosen one. You and you alone must defeat Voldemort.” Flinches went around the room at the name and Hera’s brows furrowed.

“Voldemort? Who is that?” She asked, brows furrowing further as the tension in the room seemed to grow.

“He is a dark wizard like our world has scarcely seen. He has taken control of our government and killed a great many of great wixen,” he explained, lips set in a grim line.

“And I must defeat him?” She asked, voice skeptical. “You couldn’t have found someone else for the job?”

He shook his head. “It must be you.”

She stared at the man for a moment before she responded with, “Well, sorry. But I’m perfectly happy- okay, happy might not be the right word but content with my life. I don’t need to battle it out with some madman. So, thanks but no thanks.” Outraged shouts echoed through the room.

“You have to help us!” A redheaded man shouted, his face turning red.

“Please!” a plump woman with red hair begged.

Hera shuffled uncomfortably where she stood, the desperation from the group almost tangible in the air. 

“Hera, my girl. This man will not stop at our world. He will come for yours too. He has no qualms about killing anybody.” His face was hard, the earlier twinkle gone from his eyes. “This man killed your parents and he will kill you if he should ever find you.”

Hera paused. “My parents? No, my parents were drunks that didn’t care about me. They got themselves killed in a car accident.”

The forgotten dog stood by the old man’s side, a growl leaving his lips as outraged whispers filled the room. Hera tensed, eyeing the dog warily. “I assure you, that is not true. Voldemort sought you out after the prophecy and they died protecting you”

Hera remained silent, her head reeling from the onslaught of information. Aunt Petunia had been adamant that they were drunks, but now Hera was doubting everything she had ever said about her parents. Anger filled her chest as she thought about the Dursleys and now Voldemort. He was the reason she was condemned to her life? He was the reason she was an orphan with no one in the world who cared about her?

As the anger bloomed, she suddenly wanted this man dead and before she realized what she was saying, the words left her lips, “I’ll do it.”

A smile stretched his lips.